


so light 'em up

by thundersquall



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gay Porn Hard, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundersquall/pseuds/thundersquall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet for the first time at a Fall Out Boy concert, and Patrick's always been a sucker for cocky guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so light 'em up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thirstingdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirstingdragon/gifts), [cee_m (ro_mm_ck)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_mm_ck/gifts).



> Inspired by [this](http://kanerboo.tumblr.com/post/119761681763/05-23-2015-tazer-singing-a-little-to-fall-out) and [this](http://oi62.tinypic.com/xuamh.jpg).
> 
> This was written really fast, like during a sneaky one hour at work today where I frantically alt+tabbed each time someone walked near my desk, but then just before I posted I saw that [demotu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/demotu) had started her [Gay Porn Hard](http://demotu.tumblr.com/post/119930118326/gay-porn-hard-2015) pornfest, so here is my contribution! A big thank you to her for coordinating this :)
> 
> May the hockey gods find my offering pleasing and bless the Blackhawks for Games 6 and 7 \o/

_1._

They meet for the first time at a Fall Out Boy concert. It's hot and squashy in the mosh pit and Patrick's hemmed in on all sides by sweaty bodies, but he doesn't even care, because it's so much fun.

He can't help noticing, though, halfway through the third set, that the person behind him is pushing into him, kind of hard. He ignores it at first, but by the fifth set, the guy - and Pat can feel he's a guy from the broad chest and lack of breasts, that's how close he is - is practically plastering himself against Patrick's back. He's probably like, an inch away from fitting his dick into the crease of Patrick's jeans.

Patrick tries to concentrate on the stage - the band is playing My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark now, one of his favourites - but the guy behind him presses forward again, harder this time, and his groin is 100% nestled into the seat of Patrick's ass.

It doesn't matter that the guy isn't even hard or anything (so he's probably not trying to perv on Pat's perfect body), it's fucking _rude_ , is what it is, and Pat swings around hard enough to knock an elbow into the guy's ribs.

The dude's mouth drops open in a pained O, eyes widening, and Patrick feels his mouth fall open as well because – wow. The guy is _hot_ as hell. Tall and broad and gorgeous, with an array of muscles on display because he's wearing just a flimsy tank top, so thin it's almost sheer. There are _so many_ muscles. Pat doesn't even know where to look. It's like someone reached into his brain, pulled out all his fantasy guys, and cobbled their best bits together into one perfect specimen.

"Sorry!" the dude says, bending low to speak directly into Pat's ear so he can be heard over the din. "I didn't mean to push you, it's just - " he gestures helplessly at the crowd behind him. "I'm kinda excited, you know? I love this song." When he pulls back to look down at Pat again, his face is genuinely apologetic.

"Uh, it's fine," Patrick yells back, standing on tiptoe to get closer. "I like this song too."

"Yeah?" the guy shouts, grinning down at him.

"Yeah," says Pat, smiling what he hopes is his sweetest, most winning smile at him. He knows he's got a great smile. His mom and his ex-boyfriends and the couple of dudes he'd picked up at his favourite gay club have always told him so, and so many people can't be wrong, can they? Pat is not above taking advantage of the smile God gifted him with.

Patrick is gratified when the guy's eyes flick down to his mouth and he visibly swallows, his eyes widening again.

Sometime through the eighth set, the guy nudges Pat in the hip, and shouts, "Jonny."

"What?" Patrick says.

"I'm Jonny," he repeats, and this time he smiles at Patrick too, gently pressing into his side, and shit, _shit_ , he's gorgeous, and Pat is going to die in this mosh pit, between his favourite band and this guy who looks like he just walked out of one of Patrick's wet dreams.

"I'm Patrick," he shouts instead of doing something really stupid, like getting to his knees right there, or blurting out "please let me blow you".

By the twelfth set, Patrick and Jonny have an arm slung over each other's shoulders, skin slick and sweaty against each other and screaming the words to Centuries together.

Jonny's singing is hilariously off tune. So is Pat's. Neither of them care.

 

_2._

"So," Patrick says awkwardly, as they follow the slow crowd out of Lincoln Hall. "Bye, I guess?"

He's got his hands tucked into his pockets, but Jonny reaches forward, wraps a hand around his wrist and tugs it out.

"You got time for a smoke?" he asks casually, like he isn't holding Patrick by the wrist, like they aren't complete strangers who know nothing more about each other than their first names.

Patrick swallows, feels the heat of Jonny's palm against his skin. "Yeah."

They smoke two cigarettes each, right there in the parking lot, leaning against Jonny's car. Jonny drives a fucking Mercedes, and ordinarily Patrick would be curious about it, but right now he's kind of distracted by Jonny's lips curve around the butt of the cigarette, the way his cheeks hollow when he inhales deep and the sight of his lips pursing when he exhales. They're chatting, making stupid small talk about the concert, but for the first time in his life, Patrick can't remember what went on in that concert except for the feeling of Jonny's body pressed solidly against his, the sight of his bicep flexing where his arm was wrapped around Pat.

"Okay, so," Jonny says, dropping the burnt-out stub of his cigarette onto the asphalt and grinding it down with the toe of his flip-flop. Jesus. Now that they're in the well-lit area of the parking lot, Pat can see that he's wearing flip-flops and a backwards baseball cap and shorts that strain to contain enormous thighs. It's actually tragic how attractive he looks even in an outfit that Patrick's only ever seen on Californian surfer dudes. "Do you want to go for a bite to eat and some coffee, or do you want to cut the shit out and come back to my place?"

He must see the stunned look on Patrick's face, because he adds, "I've got food there too, if you want. It just - it depends on what you want more, first."

Patrick says, "Just to be sure - you want me to come home with you. To fuck."

"To fuck, yeah," Jonny says, and he sounds so cocky, so confident, like he has absolutely no doubts that he can get Patrick in his bed. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Patrick has always been a sucker for cocky guys.

"We're going to your place," he says.

 

_3._

Jonny lives in an apartment that would probably cost a year of Patrick's salary to rent for a month. "Christ," Patrick says, standing in the middle of the apartment and turning in a slow circle, taking in the view of Chicago 62 floors up, the marble flooring, the mahogany fixtures. "What are you - you're not some mafia godfather, are you? A drug dealer?"

Jonny pulls the cap off his head; his hair's tousled and wavy and a curl drops perfectly over his forehead, and it is just unfair how good he looks when Patrick's curls are always either flattened to his skull, or bursting all over the place and completely untameable. "No, Patrick," he says, sounding amused. "I'm a lawyer. Tax law."

"What the fuck," Patrick explodes. "Dude, no - since when do tax lawyers rock out at Fall Out Boy concerts in tank tops?"

Jonny arches an eyebrow at him. "Don't knock us tax lawyers, I'll have you know we're a fun bunch."

"I have never met a fun lawyer."

"Yeah? What do you do then?"

Patrick considers telling him - he does social work, working with disadvantaged children, and he has to work with lawyers a lot, sorting out custody arrangements and adoption agreements, and by and large, the lawyers he's met are sour, miserable bastards. It's a job he's always loved, but it's also a job that barely keeps him in food and clothes and a shitty studio apartment, and Jonny - Jonny has a Merc and a home in one of Chicago's most expensive areas and Jonny is not going to think his job is in any way more awesome than being a lawyer and earning a shitton of money.

So he just shrugs and says, "I do this", and drops to his knees to nuzzle his cheek into the heat at Jonny's groin. Jonny groans, a low, choked out sound, and his hands scrabble at his shorts so fast Patrick would laugh and tell him to take it slow, if he hadn't been wanting to do this since halfway through the concert.

Jonny's dick is stupidly perfect, just like the rest of him, slowly filling up under Pat's gaze. He's not cut and Patrick leans forward, just working the tip of his tongue into the soft opening of Jonny's foreskin at first, flicking delicately at the head of his cock under it. He likes to start sucking someone off when they're still a little soft, likes to feel them harden in his mouth, so he draws Jonny's foreskin back with his fingertips and slides his mouth over the head, soft and spongey and already dark pink. Jonny's breathing hard above him, and Pat can see his fists clenched at the sides of his giant thighs.

Jonny gets fully hard so fast it's almost shocking, especially since Pat isn't doing anything more than just lazily sucking at the head, but he slides down further on Jonny's cock just to feel the way it fills up in his mouth, thickens to bulge out his cheek and nudges against the back of his throat. Fuck, Jonny's big. Patrick wants to blow his fucking _mind_.

He sucks a little harder, just to hear Jonny gasp, and slides his lips back up until he's kissing languidly around the head before he sucks Jonny back down as far as he can go, and then he looks up through his lashes at Jonny. He knows how he looks like this, on his knees; he knows Jonny's cock is visible against the inside of his cheek and his lips are red and wet around the shaft of Jonny's dick, and he knows just what it does, and true to form, Jonny moans, reaching out a shaky hand to thumb at his mouth, sealed tight over his cock.

"Fuck," Jonny says, and his voice is shaking, too, "your fucking mouth, Patrick – "

Pat pulls off, as slow as he can, dragging Jonny's cock along his tongue, watching as Jonny's eyes flutter shut even while his fingers trail over his cheek to feel the way his cock fits in Pat's mouth.

"Use me then," he says breathlessly. "Fuck my mouth, man. I can take it, I like it."

"I – yeah, yes, okay," Jonny says, and then he's got a hand on his dick, guiding it back into Patrick's mouth, feeding it back to him until Pat's tongue is thick with the musky taste of Jonny's precome.

For all Pat's words, though, Jonny's gentle on him, doing nothing more than winding his fingers through his curls and guiding him on his cock, up and down, slow and steady. Patrick wants to tell him to go harder, but Jonny's dick is fantastic, like it's made to fit in his mouth, thick and blood-hot and leaking so much precome that Pat's pretty sure it's leaking down his chin with his spit, and Pat doesn't want to stop.

And then suddenly Jonny grabs his curls with both hands, slides his cock out (Patrick goes off _very_ reluctantly), and says, "You're not, like, a hooker, are you?" Patrick looks up at him incredulously, and then he starts laughing, Jonny's hands still fisted in his hair.

"I was just - curious," Jonny mutters.

Pat finally stops laughing long enough to tell him, "If I was a hooker, I'd have asked you upfront for the money before I ever got your cock in my mouth."

"Well," Jonny says, "you did ask if I was with the mafia or a drug dealer, so I guess fair's fair."

Patrick shrugs as well as he can with Jonny holding on to his hair. "Hey, it's the first time someone thought I sucked cock well enough to be a hooker, so I guess I’m flattered. Now will you fuck my mouth properly?"

Jonny's hands tightens in Pat's hair, fingertips pressing gently into his skull, but he hesitates. "Are you – "

"Yes, I'm sure, god, I told you, I love it, _please_ fuck my mouth," Patrick says, a little too snappily, but Jonny just – groans, and finally he's holding Patrick's head tight and shoving his cock deep into Patrick's mouth.

 _Fuck._ Patrick decides that Jonny fucking his face is one of the best feelings in the world, once Jonny gets over himself and throws down the gentleman act and really gets into it, working his hips until Patrick's nose is pressed into the dark curls at the base of his cock. When Jonny untangles his hands from his hair to grip Pat's cheeks and hold his face still so he can fuck in and out of his mouth, Pat starts moaning around Jonny's cock and has to reach down to palm himself; he's so fucking hard it's almost painful.

"Fucking – shit, if only you could see yourself, Pat," Jonny says, his voice a deep rumble. "Look so good, taking my cock. I can fucking feel it – " and he presses his palms harder against Pat's cheeks, forcing Pat to suck harder, to suck his cheeks in until Jonny can feel the motions of his dick working in and out of Patrick's mouth – "you look so hot, Patrick, your fucking mouth is so perfect – "

Jesus. Patrick moans louder and rubs the heel of his hand against his dick, because Jonny is a dirty talker? Patrick simply cannot take this level of hot.

"Yeah, sucking my dick gets you hot," Jonny says. "That's good, Patrick – yeah, move your tongue just a little more – god, fuck, I don't ever want to leave your mouth – "

The noise Patrick makes, even though it's muffled by Jonny's dick, is embarrassing, but Jonny keeps going, utterly relentless, holding him still as he fucks Pat's mouth the way he wants, exactly the way Pat wants.

"So fucking good, yeah, touch yourself, show me how much you love sucking my cock," Jonny's gasping, and Patrick – he can't say no to that, so he blindly pops the button of his jeans, shoves them and his boxers down around his thighs, tugs his dick out and runs his thumb over the slickness at the head.

"Oh shit, that's so fucking hot, Pat, I'm there, fuck, _fuck_ – " and Jonny drags him off his cock, just in time to come on his chin, his cheeks. Patrick shakes Jonny's hands off him so he can lean forward and grab hold of Jonny's cock, rub the last few spurts out on his lips while he licks at the head, desperate for more.

Jonny sinks to his knees, grabbing Pat's shoulders and panting like he's just run a marathon, his face flushed and gorgeous. Patrick thinks maybe he's going to reach down and give him a handjob, but then Jonny says, "Bedroom, come on, want you to fuck me", and that is just – Patrick doesn't even know if he can stand up and move, after that.

 

_4._

Patrick takes his time opening Jonny up on his enormous king-sized bed, giving him two fingers, then three, then a fourth, until there's lube all over Jonny's thighs and Jonny is writhing on the sheets and hard all over again. He's practically dizzy with want, but he's determined to get Jonny good and begging for it, so he keeps at it, fingertips sliding over Jonny's prostate, and Jonny is swearing blue murder at him.

"Fucking – you piece of shit, Pat, _get your cock in me_ ," he spits, riding back on Patrick's hand. "Damn it, do you want me to beg – fucking _fuck_ me already – "

"A please would be nice," Patrick agrees, spreading Jonny's ass open wider with his free hand so he can see his fingers disappearing inside Jonny. Jonny's ass is magnificent. At this point, Pat's beginning to think there isn't anything about Jonny's body that isn't perfect.

"Fine, _please_ ," Jonny bites out.

"Not good enough," Pat says cheerfully, and twists his fingers into Jonny's prostate so Jonny moans, long and loud, pushing his cheek against the pillow. His mouth is open; Pat's fairly sure he's drooling.

"Oh, god," Jonny says, and this time his voice is breathy, broken. "Please, Patrick – please, I need you to fuck me – "

"That's more like it," Patrick says, his own voice more than a little wrecked, and slides his fingers out one at a time so he can watch Jonny's hole cling desperately around his fingers until it's empty and waiting for Patrick's cock. He gloves up, as quick as he can, slicks on more lube, and then -

He slides home, all the way in on the first thrust into Jonny's hot, clutching body, opening up so easily for him because Patrick's worked him so wet and loose. It's good, it's fucking good, and he gets Jonny's prostate pretty good a few thrusts in, if the way Jonny's moans ratchet up in volume are anything to go by.

"Yeah?" Patrick asks, mostly to make sure Jonny's okay – he'd been expecting more of the filthy talk, but Jonny's gone nonverbal, just grunting and panting into the pillow.

"Yeah," Jonny manages. "Fuck, yeah." And he shoves himself back on Patrick's next thrust, meeting him halfway, forcing Pat's dick deeper inside him, and Pat stops asking if he's okay.

Jonny doesn't speak again until Patrick finds the right angle to start grinding his cock right up against Jonny's prostate, and Jonny actually shouts, hands pulling at his sheets and rucking them up good, all the delicious-looking muscles on his back standing out in stark relief.

"Oh shit," Jonny says, panting hard, "yeah, right there, Patrick, you're fucking me so good, shit, that's right – "

Pat gets one hand on Jonny's dick and the index finger of the other one rubbing against the hot rim of Jonny's hole, when Jonny says, gasps, "Next time - next time you're gonna ride me, Pat. Gonna let you use my dick to get yourself off, and I bet you're gonna feel fucking good around my dick too, so tight and so wet, like I am right now - "

"Shit," Patrick swears, and he's not even sure if he's getting more hot over Jonny's filthy mouth or the tight heat of Jonny around his cock or the goddamned _next time_ Jonny had thrown out.

He pushes his finger right into Jonny's hole, above his dick, and Jonny is as wet as he'd said he was, greedy for all of him, and that's all it takes, just Pat's cock and his finger and a loose grip circled around Jonny's dick, and Jonny is coming again, clenching convulsively tight around Patrick.

Patrick slides his finger out so he can get a good grip on Jonny's hips with both his hands to fuck him hard through his orgasm, and it only takes a few thrusts before the pleasure that's been burning low in his belly hits him like a freight train and he's coming harder than he has in ages, shoving himself into Jonny as deep as he can go and desperately grinding it out against him, Jonny shuddering under him and gasping, "Yes, yes, fucking – _Patrick_ – your cock is so good, Pat – "

Jonny's fucking _mouth_ , goddamn, Patrick thinks helplessly just before he stops being able to think at all.

 

_5._

Patrick lets himself catch his breath, Jonny splayed out next to him and blinking sleepily at him, looking fucked out and mussed up and absolutely fucking gorgeous, and it takes everything he has in him to lever himself out of the bed and say, "So - guess I'll be going, then?"

Jonny just blinks up at him and asks, "Why?"

Patrick blinks back, because - that is not what Jonny is supposed to say. Jonny's supposed to say "yeah, thanks, great fuck!" and then let him out of his house without even a see-you-later, because - one night stands never see Patrick again later.

"I promised you food," Jonny says, still looking genuinely bewildered. "Give me like, ten minutes, damn. You fucked everything out of me, but I'm going to get you food."

"I thought – "

"And then we can go again," Jonny continues.

Patrick's brain is short-circuiting. He'd thought Jonny had just thrown out the "next time" in the throes of pleasure, just babbling without knowing what he was really talking about, but – he actually means it.

"Come on," Jonny coaxes. "Ten minutes, and then I'm getting up to ransack my kitchen for you."

Patrick can't bring himself to tell Jonny that what he'd really wanted to do was leave; so he lowers himself down, and Jonny slings an arm over his stomach. He's all warm and solid and shit, if Patrick had a choice, he'd never want to go.

Jonny reaches out to smooth Pat's hair back over his forehead, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. It's a gesture so soft and soothing, and so _not_ a one night stand move, that it makes Patrick shiver a little, his eyelashes fluttering. "So," he says softly, "want to tell me what it is you really do?"

Patrick stares at Jonny, eyes sleepy and lips curved up in a soft smile, and finds himself saying, "I'm a social worker."

Jonny wriggles closer to him, tugs Pat in so they're lying chest pressed to chest, nose to nose. "That's amazing," he breathes. "Tell me more?"

 

_5a._

"Hey, so," Jonny says casually over breakfast, "you want to move in?"

Patrick drops his fork; it lands with a loud clatter on the marble countertop of the kitchen island.

"Where did that come from?" he says, blinking rapidly at Jonny - Jonny who says all sorts of different things like "let's go home and fuck" and "I'll make us eggs for breakfast" and "do you want to move in with me?" with an equal lack of gravity and too much casualness.

"What?" Jonny asks. "I - it's been what, a year? You're here all the time anyway, you haven't been home in weeks, so what's the difference?"

But this time – this time, there's something under the throwaway tone of Jonny's voice that Patrick is immediately suspicious of. It's been a year, and you can't be in a relationship with someone for one year without knowing right away that one sort of offhand spontaneity is different from another sort of offhand spontaneity, even if no one else can tell the difference.

"You asshole," Patrick says, as it begins to dawn on him, "it's our anniversary, isn't it? We met at the concert, this day last year. You sneaky asshole."

"I ask you perfectly nicely to move in with me, where you'll have a great, safe, gorgeous apartment, your awesome boyfriend on call for sex and cooking and errands, and you call me names?" Jonny replies indignantly.

Patrick slides off his stool and swivels Jonny's around so he can fit himself between Jonny's spectacular thighs, pressing close to him and lifting himself on tiptoe to kiss him. "Fuck you, you're one hell of a grumpy bastard, and yes."


End file.
